


Something's Brewin'

by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12



Category: Catalyst: A Rogue One Novel - James Luceno, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Gen, M/M, architect Krennic, baby Jyn, barista Galen, cute as hell, joint custody, mostly fluffy, no one asked for this, scientist Galen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9848936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12/pseuds/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: When Orson Krennic is in need of good coffee and good company, he thinks he may have lucked out at a shop on the far side of town. What he finds instead is a strange man with his shop decorated like the stars and only a single, tiny employee.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for this. I wrote it anyway. Hope you enjoy :)

It smelled like caffeine and sugar, definitely his two greatest needs at the moment. And maybe a cigarette or two, and eight hours of sleep, and a shower. But those would have to come after he clocked out at five, while this, this was a fix he could have now.

He pushed open the door, the little bell above the door tinkling in a way that almost annoyed him, but it was soothed almost instantly by the rich sound of Beethoven that played through the small café. He decided to embrace it, even though in his own opinion, the theme of the café did little to match the music. The ceiling was painted glossily, with dots and attachments of brightly colored stars spaced along the tiles. The floor was covered in soft, dark blue carpet, patterned with planets and stars. The tables matched, perfectly round, chrome surrounded, with imprints of the night sky cased under the cover of each table.

But, the strange décor had nothing on the man who was behind the counter, who Krennic could hear speaking softly, though there was no one else whom he could see in the shop. He appeared to be talking to a large barrel of coffee beans, and Krennic was starting to wonder if curing his caffeine headache was worth dealing with whatever this was.

“Hello?” He said, even to him, his voice sounding more exasperated than he intended. The man turned around, his eyes wide with surprise. Krennic realized he was not the only other person in the shop, in fact, wrapped tight to this barista’s chest, in a sling fashioned out of yards of cloth that matched his ceiling, was a baby with its head resting on the man’s chest, a pacifier in its mouth, and a tiny fist curled against his chest.

“Hello.” The man said, smiling at Krennic with teeth that were slightly crooked but suited his face. “I apologize, we are not always open at this time, and I lost track of the day, it would seem.”

He took a step towards the counter, his hand on the back of the baby’s head to stabilize her, humming along with the symphony playing over his speakers. “How can I help you?”

Krennic looked at the menu, written in perfect cursive, and ordered some concoction of flavors that he hoped might overpower the bitter taste of the dark roast this man was serving. “You are not from here?” The barista said, and Krennic was taken aback. “Your accent,” He said, by way of apology, and gave a small laugh. “It is nice to hear another one on occasion.”

“Where are you from, then?” Krennic asked, and decided that while this might be one of the strangest people he was yet to meet, he wasn’t unfriendly.

“Denmark, originally.” The man said.

“And your passion for coffee brought you to America?”

The man turned back to him with a laugh as one of the machines began to mix his beverage. He kept his hand5 on the baby, bouncing it gently. “Ah, no.” He said, “I am afraid that came much later, after my short-lived retirement.”

Krennic took a moment to look him over as he began to rifle through a cabinet for a cup. His nametag said Galen, and Krennic decided that it suited him well. “You don’t seem old enough to be retired.” Krennic countered, speaking the truth. The man had straight, slightly long dark hair and eyes to match. His face was young, which explained the age of the child he was holding who couldn’t have been more than four months old, and defined by sharp cut cheekbones. In a wave of thought that he blamed on his lack of sleep and self-care over the past few days, that he had slept with much less attractive people, and though this man seemed eccentric, there was a certain appeal to him.

“I know.” Galen answered, and the sound of the blender died as Beethoven’s Fifth picked back up. “That’s why I have the shop. Something to keep me busy.”

“This is your hobby, then?” Krennic couldn’t recall every investing this much interest in a stranger before, but Galen seemed rather open to sharing, and he was too tired to truly care.

“Yes,” He said, “Jyn and I spend our days here.” With almost an unconscious gesture, he placed a small kiss to the baby’s head, and she wrinkled her nose in response. “She is my best employee.” Krennic gazed at Galen’s hand as he handed him his coffee, not catching sight of a ring and raising his eyebrows.

“Well,” He said, taking a sip of what had actually, to his eternal relief, turned out to be quite delicious. “I should be going. Thank you for the coffee.”

“Thank you for visiting.” Galen said, and leaned down. “Say thank you, Jyn.” But the baby remained fast asleep, and even though Krennic had never particularly cared for children, he  couldn’t help but smile at the impassive look on her face.

“It’s alright, she isn’t the first one to not want to talk with me today.” He was specifically thinking of Tarkin, who inevitably always a had a stick so far up his ass Krennic was amazed he could bend over.

“You’ll have to come back,” Galen said. “When she is feeling more friendly.”

Krennic raised his eyebrows, but if Galen had noticed the implication of his words, he didn’t show it, instead humming along, moving back to the coffee beans. Krennic took another look around the café, seeing a somewhat large crowd of cars pulling into the parking lot. He glanced at his watch, realizing he had been in here as the next hour had rolled over, and what seemed to be the shop’s usual hours were now active.

“Yes.” He said, taking another sip. “I will.” And he stepped out with a flourish, on to other things, but the strange man and his small baby never quite leaving his mind as he worked through building plans and designs. He had too many unanswered questions and found himself, as he made his way to his apartment that evening, craving another of the chocolate raspberry drinks he had enjoyed that morning, and the coda of Beethoven’s Fifth playing as part of his dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

He had not pictured this outcome to his many visits to Galen’s coffeehouse (on his second visit he had learned the eccentric barista in fact owned the building), and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about it at the moment. He was sitting, with his new favored drink in front of him, steam curling out of the top, and a baby barista in her carrier watching from across the table.

Jyn Erso, as he had learned was her name, was staring at him, her tongue occasionally peeking out of her mouth as she regarded Krennic with a rather intense stare for a four month old child. Her father was busy humming along and making coffee, and though he had spent a good deal of time sitting and talking to Krennic, business was in a small rush at the moment, and Krennic had graciously agreed to watch Jyn. She was clothed in a dark blue onesie imprinted with the stars, but she was also wearing a tiny apron that matched Galen’s, with the small planetary logo on her chest. She seemed as enthused about her situation as Krennic was.

“What a cute baby.” An elderly woman patted Krennic’s shoulder, startling him.

“Thank you.” Krennic said, trying not to cringe away from this stranger, whom was eyeing Jyn with the typical look of an elderly person who believed they had the right to hold every baby in public because they had once given birth.

“She must look like her momma,” The woman added, and Krennic was unsure whether or not to be insulted. “Not that you aren’t cute.” And to his horror, she laughed and patted his hair. He was a grown man, this was ridiculous.

“She actually looks like her father.” And Krennic gestured to Galen, who was humming and stirring up coffee behind the counter. The woman looked over at Galen, and laughed again, patting Krennic again who this time could not resist shrinking away before she walked away to top off her coffee, paying Jyn a little smile beforehand.

“This is why I don’t have children.” He said pointedly to Jyn, who blinked at him unobtrusively. “I know it isn’t your fault, of course, but I prefer to enjoy my coffee in peace most mornings.” She blinked again, her feet pushing against the bottom of her seat for no reason he could discern other than the typical urges that accompanied being a baby.

“Jyn isn’t usually one to respond, Orson, though she may have taken a liking to you.” He looked up to see Galen looking at him, smiling broadly with that odd grin he had when he seemed to very much want to laugh. Krennic felt himself turning scarlet, realizing that Galen had probably heard what he said, and with a quick glance, realized that other patrons were watching him with a bemused expression.

“I doubt that.” He answered, turning his face to his coffee as Galen did let out a short laugh and then moved to help his last customer.

“I apologize, Jyn Erso.” The baby remained staring at him, “It isn’t your fault you are an aesthetically appealing child.” He had dropped his voice to a low whisper, and stopped it short when Galen arrive at the table, taking the empty seat next to Jyn, who cooed happily at his presence.

“It is nice to see you two are getting along.” Galen said with a wink at Krennic, who blushed again. On his third trip to Galen’s shop, Galen had handed him the infant, at the time sucking on a small pacifier, and had laughed as Krennic held her as though one might hold a disdainful potato, or inactive bomb. He had failed to see what was funny then, but has tried to hide his inexperience with children, though it was, even to him, quite obvious.

“Yes, she’s an excellent listener.” Krennic said, sipping his drink carefully, letting the sweet taste of raspberries settle on his tongue.

“She will be with her mother this weekend, I’m afraid.” Galen said, reaching his hand into Jyn’s seat so she could wrap her hand around one of his long fingers. “I won’t have her to talk to.”

“Your ex-wife?”

“Ah, no.” Galen said, letting out a laugh. “Lyra and I both wanted a child, but she is married to someone else. One of my good friends, but we never had any interest in being married.”

Krennic let that reel through his head, wandering if, since it seemed the cards might be falling into place, Galen would be interested in spending his weekend in some different company. “If you’re free this weekend, Galen,” And dark eyes turned to him, almost expressionless. “Why don’t you join me for dinner tomorrow?”

Galen said nothing for a moment, and Orson was almost sorry he asked, the flood of the noise of the coffee shop coming back to him. But Galen was turned to Jyn, whose little eyes were starting to droop as Galen smiled at her. “Doesn’t that sound fun, little one?” He whispered in a voice Krennic was sure was not meant for him to hear, but he couldn’t help the slight flush of his cheeks, wondering briefly if Galen had ever talked about him to Jyn other times when he could not here them.

“I would love to.” Krennic smiled into his cup, drinking that last of his coffee before standing.

“I must be going. But I’ll pick you up tomorrow, if that’s alright.” Galen nodded, standing as more people began to meander into the shop, picking up Jyn to place her at her normal spot behind the counter humming along as his constant loop of classical music switched over to Mozart.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about wine, other than being raised in Europe.” Galen Erso looked quite different out of his barista outfit, dressed in a nicely cut, but outdated suit that framed his lean build. Dinner had been nice, a meal full of laughter and shared anecdotes over some of the best Italian food Krennic had managed to find in the area. It had been so nice, in fact, that when he had invited Galen over for a glass of wine and bit of dessert, he had readily accepted and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

“I’ve found that wine is more fickle than it seems, certainly more than beer. But also worth the effort if you find the right one.” Krennic cut them each a slice of thick Italian crème cake, lifting his own wine glass between his fingers. “This one, for example, pairs perfectly with the cake.”

He watched as Galen took a bite of the cake, his lips lifting upwards into a small smile as he followed it with a sip of wine. “You are right about that.” He said, setting his glass down and slicing himself a larger bite. “This cake is delicious. Did you make it?”

“Yes.” Krennic found his face reddening, an embarrassing sight for a man who had been paid much more lwed comments without a reaction.

“You could have a second career as my pastry chef.” Galen laughed, and Krennic found that he loved the sound of it. Nothing about it was false, as so many people were. The people he dealt with on a daily basis were about as false as they came, and it was a relief to spend time in the company of someone who didn’t seem to care much about other’s opinions.

“I’ll keep that in mind in case architecture ever takes a turn for the worse.” Krennic laughed along with him, and watched Galen’s dark eyes glitter with amusement. When they had finished their cake, he gave Galen a small tour of his apartment. He felt that it matched his taste perfectly, designed with all the modern comforts while retaining a more vintage persona. He vaguely wondered what Galen’s home must look like, at the least the portions not covered in baby amenities, and wondered if it would be as eccentric as the coffee shop the man ran.

“You have impeccable taste,” Galen noted after a while, looking at an arranged section of mirrors that led into Krennic’s work space and study.

“Thank you.” He said, blushing again despite himself.

“Who are these people?” Galen asked, and Krennic realized a few seconds too late that he had not moved the framed photograph from the mantle before Galen had seen it. He swallowed, his mind racing, but there was no point in lying, no matter how uncomfortable the truth might be.

“My family.” He said slowly, moving to stand beside Galen, crossing his arms across his chest.

“In Australia?”

“Yes.” Krennic said, fully intending to end the conversation about them in that moment, but was possessed by a closeness to Galen he didn’t know he possessed. “I haven’t talked to them in years though. We had a falling out before my leaving, and I doubt they would want to hear from me now.”

Galen said nothing for a long moment, his eyes instead tracing the faces, some of which so resembled Krennic’s. His father’s in particular, and his mother’s bright blue eyes that he saw every morning as he shaved his trace patches of facial hair. “Family is a strange thing, indeed.” Galen finally said softly, “Capable of helping and hurting us, it seems.”

This was not the conversation Krennic had been planning on having. His intended conversation had involved a lot fewer words and a lot fewer clothes, if he was being honest with himself, but then again, his life had been anything but ordinary since Galen had come into his life. “IT is difficult to love someone who hurts you.” Krennic said and physically moved away from the painting.

“I told you Lyra and I never thought of marrying.” Galen said, and Krennic looked back to see that Galen was no longer looking at the picture, but not looking at him either. “That is not entirely true.”

Krennic waited, his blood running a bit cold at the thought that perhaps all of this had been for naught and he was trying to gain the attention of a man pining over the mother of his child in hope for a family. “Lyra always wanted to marry me. I think in her own way, she thought having Jyn might make me come around. I was never interested, but she told me she has never stopped loving me.” Galen gave a soft, humorless smile. “I wish I didn’t have to hurt her, but there is no way around it, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry,” Krennic half-stuttered, not knowing quite how to react. This evening, unlike every other evening he could remember planning, was not going according to his design. When he had arrived at the coffee shop in his white suit jacket, freshly pressed shirt, with enough cash to pay for dinner and then some, he had been expecting to spend an evening with Galen that was full of revelry.

“It is quite alright,” Galen said, looking over at him, his usual strange but endearing smile on his face. “I have found my interests elsewhere.” His voice dropped to a low curve, and Krennic felt an involuntary shiver run up his spine.

“Really?” Krennic said, his voice thicker than intended. He was seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, a preservation of what could have been a disastrous ending to an otherwise excellent day. “In what?”

“I have had a frequent customer at the shop.” Galen shifted closer to him. “A nice man, a little on the quiet side until I got to know him. Intelligent, charming, not the best with children although my daughter seems to like him.” Krennic could now feel Galen almost pressed against him. “We’ve had a nice evening together now, his home is lovely, like he is. He listened to me talk about problems that have very little to do with him.” Krennic could feel the kiss coming on the next breath, and he turned his head slightly.

“Do you know who that might be, Orson?” He added softly, lifting a hand up to press his fingers lightly against Orson’s chest.

“He sounds incredible.” Orson said softly back, unable to keep his eyes from straying to Galen’s lips which always seemed to be almost pouting.

“He is.” And that same hand left his chest and instead cupped the back of his head as he pulled Krennic into the first real first kiss he’d had in ages.


End file.
